Finding out the truth
by Meep meep
Summary: When Jack and the Doctor remeet, Jack finds out some bitter truths. How he wished it'd gone differently. Everything he'd done...just to find the truth. Warning! acute slash! Spoilers!
1. wishes

I'd hoped you'd be there. I'd hoped so hard…but it all amounts to nothing. Because hopes…they've no place here.

I'd hoped you didn't know, that you'd walked away still thinking I was dead. But…you knew. You knew long before I did. And that just isn't right.

I'd hoped you'd come back for me, but you never did. I waited so long, but you never came.

So I came to you, and I found out the truth. You got over me, you walked away knowing I was alive and left me alone. And you never had the decency to tell me what had happened. You even let me believe that Rose, your precious Rose, my best friend, was dead.

And it hurts. More than you can know. My heart is breaking; it feels like my body is tearing itself apart from the inside. And now, more than ever, I wish I could die. I wish I'd died up on Satellite 5, because then I'd never have hoped…never have needed to.

I thought you'd at least cared…cared enough not to leave me. Or if not for me, cared enough to let Rose know I was still alive. I know you didn't because I'd have at least gotten a letter then.

But you never did. You didn't care enough.

Hundreds of years I've followed you, hoping to find out the truth…I guess it's true when they say 'be careful what you wish for'.

I wish I'd never met you. But then, if I had a wish, I wouldn't waste it like that. No, I wouldn't wish for that.

I'd wish…I'd wish you noticed how I'd felt. I'd wish you'd cared enough.

In short, I wish you'd loved me like you loved Rose. Because then, you'd at least have tried to save me.

God, I wish you loved me.


	2. pain

The truth of the matter is, I could never have stayed. You push every button inside me, every instinct I have screams out against you. Just seeing you…it hurts, like a blow to the gut. Because you're wrong.

When I left, I didn't do it because I wanted to. I did it because I had to. It was bred into me to hate what you are, what you became.

I think, now more than ever, that it never should have been you. It wasn't your war, it wasn't your duty to fight in it. But you did. Because you knew it mattered. You did it because, despite all evidence to the contrary, you are a good man. And you did it because I asked you. You gave your life…because I asked you to. You really care about others, Jacky…you're a protector. You always have been.

And you gave yourself up for my cause, and I just turned around and left you. Because I knew it'd hurt to keep you. But what is a little pain, when there's so much happiness to be had? I think…I could've lived with the pain. But it's too late now.

I can't imagine what you've been through. Living that life, the life you never should have led, the life you wouldn't have led if you'd never met me. If you'd never sacrificed yourself for me the first time we met, you'd never have died the way you did. The way you keep doing.

And I, I never would have missed you. Or, rather, I never would have realised. Because you'd be safe, far away from me. Far away from where I knew I'd hurt you.

But then you came back, and you proved me right. I did hurt you. I kept you away and I made sure you didn't know the truth. I let you think she was dead, just so you knew how much I hurt the people I love. Just to stop you coming back. But I swear to God, I thought you knew that I knew. All those years, following me, trying to find out the truth…a truth I thought you already knew. And I am so, so sorry.

And all that time you thought I didn't care, and now you think so even more. But you're wrong. I kept you near that day because I knew you could look after yourself. I could afford to send Rose away – she had someone else, others who loved her. Yes, I loved her. But not too much. Not enough to kill me if I lost her. But you – you had no one. Just like me. I had to keep you around, because you had no one else and neither did I. No one but each other. I needed to know I wouldn't lose you. But I shouldn't of, because I did. And it's entirely my fault.

All this time, you thought I didn't love you. But I do. I love you too much. And it hurts.

Every time I think of you, it hurts.


	3. not enough

These days, pain is something I'm very much used to. I put myself in situations where I know I'll die, just so I can feel alive. Just to remind myself of what I live for.

And, of course, to bring me closer to you. Every time I die I use the energy that you gave me. I remember things from when I was with you. And I look at people the way I imagine you did. As something that needs protecting, needs help. Something…other.

So I put myself through the pain, hoping that when I wake something will be different…better. It rarely is. I wake up to a world that hurts more than the last, because it's another life without you, another fight. But I still have the hope. Maybe next time you'll come. Maybe next time I'll find you. Maybe next time…until there are no next times. Just blissful dark.

I often compare our lives – you lived through one war, I lived through two. You lived through the end of the world, I lived through the end of all I held dear, again and again. We're very alike. But it doesn't matter.

You looked into the void and it looked back. And it changed you. Caused you to become…something else. SomeONE else. Someone without the capacity for love, because once was enough. Enough to break you. Enough to make sure you never took a chance again.

You could have kept me, I know this. But you were too much of a coward to do so.

I don't know what you've been through, to make you like this, and I'm not sure I care to. What matters is you threw me away. I wasn't worth your attention, wasn't good enough to merit it, wasn't loved enough, wasn't…enough. I just wasn't enough for you.

But she was? Your precious Rose, was she enough? Enough to stop you missing me? Or wasn't that an issue? Was she enough to make up for what you've done, to fill whatever gap I left behind?

But none of that matters, because Rose is dead (or as good as) and you still didn't come back for me. Didn't think to tell me.

You have the power to make people fall in love with you, but you never return it. You walk away and never look back, while we fools search for you. You take up a space in people's hearts that can never be filled. You leave people bleeding and never come back to fix them. Never think to.

You complicate things, and I just don't know how to feel around you. You betrayed me, you left me, and it hurts. Every day, it hurts. But that doesn't stop me loving you. I don't think anything could. When I found out, the world went dim. And I seriously considered not waking up, because if I wasn't awake I couldn't feel the pain. But it's not up to me. Being with you now is like a half-remembered song from childhood, like feeling the sunlight before being locked away…like taking your last breath. Bittersweet. Longing.

You're everything I ever wanted that I knew I couldn't have. And you proved me right – I knew you'd hurt me, but I took the chance anyway. Because at least then I'd have the memories, have the moments with you. At least then I could say I tried.

But now I think I was wrong. All I have are regrets, and the cold stab of betrayal.


	4. eyes

I should have come back. I know this, now. But I was too afraid – too afraid of being hurt, of losing you again, too afraid of it all being my fault.

And every fear I had, I made true. By leaving you I brought a world of hurt into being. But I can handle the hurt. What I can't handle is the look in your eyes when you see me. It's the look of a man who's given up. It's the look of a man who knows he's dying but wont fight to live. And it's a look that says 'you did this'.

There's nothing I can say that will make that look go away. Not anymore. And you'll never know how sorry I am for that.

But every time I see you, it's a reminder. A reminder that I can't save everyone. That I always lose the ones I love. But you can't see that, only me. Look at Rose! Look at the Time War! Look at the people who's lives I've hurt. I didn't want to do that to you, Jacky. I thought if I left you'd…but I was wrong.

I can't look at you, because it hurts too bad. I know what I've done to you. I'll never forget.

Every time you look at me I see pain in your eyes. A pain so deep that it must cut straight to your heart. And I did that.

But it's when you think I'm not looking that your eyes hurt me. Because you look at me like a lost child, empty of hope and devoid of all emotions but despair.

Just like the void.

I looked into the void and it looked back and Jacky, its eyes were just like yours. Ancient despair, old and empty. Full of knowledge, knowledge that hurts, that claws. That rips you apart from the inside. Dark, angry and utterly alone.

And I did this to you.

I, who destroyed worlds. I, who destroyed nations. I, the slayer of thousands. I, the Oncoming Storm. I, who lived up to my name.

Because just like a storm, I came and ripped your life apart. Floods like tears, lightning that breaks the heart, hail to chill the blood, freeze the emotions. And thunder, the steady sound of drums that draws ever closer, the noise as I make you fall apart.

I didn't come back because I was too afraid – afraid of being hurt, of losing you, of it all being my fault. I was afraid of what would happen if you pushed me away.

But I was more afraid of what would happen if you didn't.


	5. one tenth

I've seen many things in my life. Not as much as you, but more than enough for me. I've seen the damage people do to others – I there's one thing humans are good at, it's hurting each other. But oh my holy God I've never seen anything like this. One tenth of the population wiped out. In a moment, one tenth is gone. And there's nothing I can do. I watch as people, MY people, are slaughtered. I'm supposed to protect them, but here I am. And there's nothing I can do.

I watched as he aged you. The Master. And all I could think of was how broken you looked. How defeated. And that crushed all my hopes. I realised then how much we rely on you. And it scares me – for so many years I waited for you because in the time we had together I became completely dependant on you. But seeing you as an old man – that brought it all home. But it didn't make me love you any less…and I've never felt that way before.

I always thought I'd been brought back for a reason, to protect the people, to save the world, but it's too late now. One tenth…one tenth. People's lives as numbers, meaningless, things to be added or subtracted at will, not living, not really people. How can anyone see them like this?

And every time I look at _him_ I see the faces of every person I've ever known, and I wonder which of them I've lost. Who have I failed to protect? I know that before I met you, I'd never have felt like this. It's like something ripping into me, tearing me apart, because they're taking my people, they're hurting them and I can't stop them. There's nothing I can do.

They wrap chains around my arms and drag me away from you. You could very well be the only thing I have left, and they've taken you away to. Because that man isn't you. It's not that he's old, but that's part of it. He's lost and defeated, he's given up and that's just not you. You don't eat, you don't sleep and you never give up. Not till the enemy is defeated. You're just like me in that respect.

I can't help thinking back to the Hub, wondering if they'll come save us, hoping they're still alive. Praying, begging that they not given up. Not like you.

They chain me to a wall, and being away from you stings. Salt in an old wound – a little extra pain on top of what I've felt for over a hundred years.

But he killed my people and he must be stopped. Because I know what it's like to feel abandoned by your protector. And there's no way in hell I'll let them feel that. He WILL be stopped…and I'll get you back. I swear to God I'll get you back.


	6. one instruction

It horrifies me to think of what must have gone through your head when we were captured. I declared myself Champion in name only, but you live here with these people. You know them, know how they live, how they'll act and react. You protect them, every day. It must kill you to see this slaughter – which of your people fell into that tenth? Your team, your friends, your family? Whatever life you carved out for yourself, gone.

And seeing me…what must you think of me? Do you love me now, Jacky? I doubt it. Not the Doctor anymore, just an old man. I look at their faces and I pretend I see disgust – what kind of Champion am I? Why don't I fight for them? But what I really see is pity. Pity the old fool who cannot save himself, who is forced into being babied by his destroyer. And I've never been able to stomach pity, you know that.

I make up arguments to counter my imaginings. Don't they see that there's nothing I could do? I can't kill him, not when I'm finally not alone. Not even if he does try to kill me. I can't be the one to kill him, not this time. But it just sounds like I'm trying to justify it to myself. An old, broken record, making an argument with itself. Round and round in circles but never getting anywhere.

I can feel the hum of the Archangel in my head, a constant noise beating on my brain. No, I am not alone. And I am not defenceless. I sent Martha out into the world with only one instruction – _use the countdown_. Times differentiate but the countdown will be universal.

I know his plans, know how he thinks. I know what he's about to do. And it's not good.

I want to cling to you Jacky, want you to hold onto me, because you're the only person I have left. But they take you away. They wrap you in chains and my very soul screams out against the injustice. I try to reach for you, but they're dragging you away. You look so confused and hurt and my heart bleeds for you because you don't know, you don't know the plan and you don't know that I lo…

But then you're gone. And I know I won't see you again until the next disaster strikes. The next slaughter. And God help me Jacky, because a part of me longs for it. Just so I can be near you again. But the rest of me is dying. Because these people are being wiped out and it won't stop. He won't stop. And I don't want you to see me like this. I'd protect you from that, at least.

I know what he's going to do to you Jacky, and I'm so sorry. Because he won't stop, he won't ever stop. Not until he's made to. And they dragged you away without any hope left. But I'll stop him Jacky. I'll save you, I swear.


	7. breathe

Every day here is the same routine. A breath in, a breath out. In, another cut, out, another. Each deeper than the last.

In, I remember your face, out, I hope to be free. In, I test the chains, out, I lose whatever hope I had left. In, I am summoned, out, I watch as my home is destroyed.

In, I remember how utterly alone I am, out, I think on how my team must feel now I'm gone.

In, another eon passes me by, stretching further and further, a lost flitter of my life. Out, I brace against the pain that I know is coming.

They brought me here to break me, I know this. But no one can break me. You can't break the broken. The only things I hold in my heart are of happier times, the three of us, travelling the skies. Like a hand upon my heart, the weight of the depression sinks further in but it's not heavy enough to break me.

As long as you're alive there is hope, enough hope to keep me from breaking.

In, another cut. Just enough hope for this.

I watched as they killed my best friend in front of my eyes, and I can tell you now, this is how it felt. Like a slow rip, every cut they put on him another burn in my heart. But there was still hope as long as he was alive. But he didn't stay that way did he? Out, and maybe you won't either. Maybe you won't survive long enough to save us this time. Maybe this time…this time we have to save ourselves.

In, oh dear god above, don't let them hurt my team. I never wanted to leave them, not really, and I never thought this would happen. Out, they can handle themselves, you didn't train them to go cower in corners. In, but that's exactly it – they were trained to fight to the bitter end, never to give up. In, you've trained them to fight an evil they can't possibly beat. You've set them up to die.

Out, and you, the mighty Doctor, you are next. In, you are the next on his list, the next to die. The next of us to fall. Rose, and now you. At least this time, I'll be told. The whole world will be.

In, I can't let you die. If you die, I'll never survive. I lived so long purely on the hope of finding you, finding out the truth. It kept me going. The knowledge that you were out there, watching over us, protecting us from those who would harm such a relatively innocent people, it helped too keep me fighting. But if you were gone…there would be no great protector, no safeguard. No one to stop the bad men coming in the night and taking the little boys and girls from their bed. Nothing to stop them feeling the brunt of the galaxy. Out, we will be truly alone. Alone and vulnerable.

In, another cut, out, another. But I'll bear the cuts and keep breathing if it gives you a chance to save us. Just a chance.

Because otherwise, I'll have to watch someone I love die in front of me. Once again. And I don't think I could survive watching you die.

So I'll keep breathing if you will. In, out.

In.

Out.


	8. tears

Today they enslaved the human race. People rounded up like…like animals, herded in their hundreds to packed quarters. So now on top of you thinking you'd failed all those who died you now have to cope with all those remaining being forced into slavery.

And those who refused…shot down in the street. Piles of bodies to be disposed of. Blips on the radar, nothing out of the norm. Not anymore.

He's set himself up as Master of the Earth, with an army of forced labour and we…we released that. If I'd only told Martha more…if I'd spotted it first…but no matter. Not now.

He pushes our faces against the glass to make us watch the rebels killed. It makes me think back, back to Rose and Jackie and Mickey. There's no doubt that were they still here, they'd be in with the black listed.

We're standing so close together, side by side but not quite touching, and I revel in the nearness. It's wrong, I know, to feel this happiness when all those below are dying. He releases the monsters – and I pray I'm wrong in my suspicions of them – and the look on your face makes me want to cry. You look almost…broken. Fragile. Vulnerable. I can see you press your eyes closed and clench your teeth and I know you're seconds away from breaking down yourself. But you won't do it. Not when they can see you, not when it would leave obvious marks on your face. You won't give them that.

I can feel tears slide down my cheeks, and He says something about the people below, some meaningless monologue proclaiming his power. But it's not them I cry for. It's you. You catch my eye and I know you understand. You turn away quickly, like seeing all of this is too much for you. I can feel the pain coming off you in waves, like a physical blow. Oh, Jacky, I hope I can do this. I hope I can save the day, bring back everyone you love. I can hear at least someone from your team praying for you, but it's weak and distant, and I both wish I could tell you and am glad that I can't.

It would only hurt you more if you knew.

They start to drag you away again and it's another blow to my gut. I'm losing you.

I can't protect you. I can't save you. I can't make the pain go away.

I hear your cry of pain after the doors closed, both in my ears and in my mind, and I give in to the tears.


	9. thunder

As if it wasn't enough for him to take all those lives, He enslaved the entire population. Five billion put to work on preparing the Earth for war. A universal war, the likes of which haven't been seen since…since the Time War.

And any who resist are killed.

There's nothing I can do to stop it but still, it's a blow. But I still have you and as long as I have you I can cope. I can deal with the pain.

Today they begin work on ammunition – rockets, lasers, fuel supplies. The basic tools of war. I can't see it, but I know it's happening. He won't bring me up till someone dies. I'm somewhat thankful for the time away from Him, but my jailers are still trying to pump me for information. Crackling electric charges on my chest, pushing me to the brink of death and further.

I'm not sure if you know what's going on down here. I hope you don't. Better to think that you're ignorant of it than that you know and just don't give a damn. You look at me with blank eyes, like it's my fault he came back. But I'm used to that – being the vent for your anger. It happened all the time back when…back when we were all together. Back when Rose was still here.

A sharper sting from the electrodes and I bite back a cry. I won't tell them anything, I WON'T. Not when the world could rely on what I may or may not say.

And through it all, the countdown ticks away. Another, stronger charge through my body. I wake up through the blackness to see the red numbers swim in bold in front of my face. Have I died? I don't know.

Days have blurred together, maybe even weeks. Who knows? Not me. It's too dark in the cell to tell night from day. Times passage is marked only in landmark occasions, and by the numbers on the countdown. Bold numbers glaring down, signalling how long there is left, but it is too difficult for me to translate them into how long has gone by right now.

A storm is coming to Planet Earth, and I find myself counting the seconds between its thunder. Heavy footfalls above, mocking music, another announcement of prophetic doom.

One one thousand.

Two one thousand.

A storm is coming and none shall survive its passing – not from here to the ends of the universe.

Three one thousand.

And the countdown ticks away, counting down the seconds to oblivion.

One

One

Thousand,


	10. pushing

They started in the shipyards today. Blew apart the mountains to make space. Debris and dirt, all we have left to us. Because we're united now, held together by a common fear, a common enemy.

They brought you up again, and you looked worse than even I do. Dirty, bleeding, covered in bruises and abrasions. I know what they do to you – I can hear them, hear their enjoyment, inside my head – but I guess I thought it wouldn't be real till I saw the after-effects.

They dragged us to the window again, where we are now. I can't help but look at you. Can't help but stare at your face, at your hands, at the marks they put on you because of me. I know you feel it because you smile a little. But it comes out as a sad smile, one of pain and loss. And I know now that you think you've lost me. You think I've given up on you, that I'm too old to help. And, despite everything that's happening, I find that it matters how you think of me. I feel the aching split between us, like half an inch is hundreds of miles. There are hundreds of galaxies between us, my friend.

As they reach to take you away, I touch your hand. A small comfort, the only one I have left to me. And then I let you go.

I am pushed back into my tent, and I find the only thing I can do is remember. So I lose myself in the memories of me and you, the times when we both smiled, when we were happy together. But I find I am once again drawn to the look on your face as I left you behind, the look when I told you the truth. The epitomy of despair.

I try to reject the images in my head, but they're burned to my eyelids. They are what makes this torture worth it – I'll be able to save you, Jacky. I'll get rid of that look forever.

Because every time I have you, I find myself pushing you away. I keep on letting you go.

You're the only person I have, the only comfort, the only pleasure. And I keep on letting you go.


	11. two faces

Blood. A life's worth of blood. I can feel it, pulsing through me, pounding in my ears. I can see it, pooling around me, tokens of the torture I've received here, at His hands. Many lives worth have been spilt and yet…I am numb.

All I have is the blood. The blood and my thoughts. Mainly, I think of you. Of how you are, how we were, how we could be. And when I'm not thinking of you I think of the one I left behind. How he is, how he felt when I left…how he'll feel when I get back. I consider the possibility that he wont be there when I get back, that no one will. And it hurts.

I left without saying goodbye. I didn't think that much of it, at the time, but now I might never see him again. I had a job, an important job, and a family. Sort of. As close to a family as I've had in a long time. And I never said goodbye.

He has the sweetest smile. And the cutest laugh you've ever heard. And you? You have darkness. You have a smile to hide the pain and a laugh that holds no humour. Not anymore. You don't love me, you've never loved me and yet…I still chose you. Only, at the time, I wasn't aware of such a choice. You were everything that mattered.

Down here what gets me the most is the loneliness. I'd give anything, anything, for someone to hold onto. It's cold and empty here, the only people I see are hidden by masks and bring only pain.

I want what I used to have. I want to be able to reach out and find a hand to hold, a warmth to reach for. I want contact again.

I want to confide in someone. I want to tell them what I'm going through, I want to be reassured. I want someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me it'll all be ok, even though I know it to be a lie.

I want someone to be here for me, by my side, to make the pain go away. I want to lie in someone's embrace and not have to feel the weight of a world I failed to protect.

And whilst ordinarily there would be no contest, right now I can't picture whose face I want to see. Because what I see is a confused mixture, two separate images that I can't pick one from.

In front of me I see two faces. You. And him.


	12. for once and for all

I can feel them, screaming inside my head. There is nothing to occupy me but trying to align myself with the Archangel, and picking out familiar voices through the din. I know I wont find Martha, but I search for others I have known, from times long past. Sarah Jane, your team, people I've met but never known, not really. I run lists in my head, any names I can remember. Sometimes I pick names up and I search them down any lines I can. It passes the time and stops me thinking of you.

I have tried so very hard to keep myself from your mind, but in my heart I long for contact of any kind. I sometimes catch glimpses of your thoughts and they make me wish so hard that I hadn't. Because the only thing that occupies your thoughts is the dark – war and hunger and pain. So much pain. Jacky, I don't know how you've stayed so much yourself – happy, cheerful and beautiful inside and out. I see so many similarities between us, but inside my soul is full of thorns and bitterness.

I have never deserved you – now, in particular, I see this to be true. You are a superior man by far, to hold onto the very selflessness that makes you who you are.

I spend all this time dipping into others minds to avoid dipping into my own. So much effort spent to avoid the hauntings of my past. And right now the only light I see is your face, Jacky. Your face and the knowledge that I must go on, must continue the fight. No matter what, Jacky, we must keep fighting. For people like us, trapped and fearful and alone. For the people existing under the fist of the Master's cruelty. For every single person on the face of the Earth, we must fight on.

Because it isn't just us anymore. He has his thugs, those killing machines, but we have a promise to keep. A promise made to the whole of the world, a promise to protect.

There are five billion reasons down there, five billion reasons not to stop. Five billion reasons to end this, for once and for all.

So we forge on. No matter the pain and suffering, no matter the torture and torment. Because we have made a promise to end this for those five billion left alive.

For once and for all.


	13. horror

I have lived through many things. I have lived through plagues and famines, outbreaks and quarantines. I have lived through wars. I have seen the days out in the trenches, watching as the dead are piled high and the dying are dispatched. I have seen soldiers go mad, shellshock and grief turning them insane. I have seen men crumble under the pressures of war. And I have stood with them, side by side, as Death's hand selected his next man, seemingly random choices that twist and turn the fate of those left behind.

I have seen death. And I have brought death. I have seen battles, both at home and on foreign soils. I have seen the conditions through which mankind has continued to prosper. I have seen the ups and downs, have known the heavy hand of loss and have felt the tear of almost every weapon founded on this Earth.

I have seen the hospitals, held the hands of the dying. I have listened to last words and last breaths. I have caused them. I have felt the rip of the shell, the sting of the bullet and the choke-hold of the gas. I have looked out over No Man's Land, a phrase that sums up the unjustified waste of war. I remember a solitary tree, stripped of life and colour, half-buried under spent ammunition and empty shells, in grounds littered by the unburied dead. All that's left in a land that once held beauty, destroyed for selfish gains.

I have lived in the shadow of death, lain in the presence of the fear it creates, and never once felt it. I cannot die and thus I have no fear of it. What frightens me is the death of the spirit, that I have so often and so quickly become accustomed to the sights and sounds of war.

And once again, I see those sights and hear those sounds, echoing in the very recesses of what little soul I have left. The inevitability and pointlessness of war screeches across decades, a distant cry from another lifetime.

'O Horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!' The blood of thousands on the hands of few, the death of innocents fighting in a war which isn't theirs, the pounding of gunfire that rips apart homes and lives. And for what reason? Patriotism. The one thing that makes a person want to kill another who has done them no wrong. Patriotism. The one thing that can unite people, taking priority over all but allegiances. And then people can be manipulated by others for reasons of power or to gain a few inches of land. Men pay with their lives for others mistakes.

War is inevitable. It is the one thing we have in common right from the beginning to the end of the human race. We are always living in the build-up to, during, or the aftermath of one war or another. We have never learnt. Battles stain our history but we do not remember. Hastings, Korea, Falklands, Gulf, Jutland, Marne, Somme, Ypres, Passchendaele. A history of places, dates and names of the dead. War is constant. War is always there. And once again, we are at war.

It takes just a few with power to begin a war. But here, now, there is little opposition. No allegiances, no tactics, no strategies. No end in sight. Lives strung out as statistics, bodies lying where they fell. These people fight His war out of fear, because they have no choice. Conscription relating to all, the Earth marching under one _grand_ banner, marching to the drums of war.

I have seen life and death. I have seen plagues and famines and I have seen wars. I have seen Death's hand fall randomly upon the trenches and I have seen it fall once more.

I have seen life and death. I have even caused it. And today I saw, with eyes that have seen every kind of atrocity ever seen thus far, another act of war. Another grand gesture making Death a theatre, making war a public spectacle.

Today I saw China burn.


	14. talk

AN: italics are Jack thinking

AN: italics are Jack thinking. A thank you and a dedication to loathed wolf spirit for the idea : )

He wheeled me through today. He pushed me down through the levels, down and down and down until we reached one room. I tried not to think about what was in there. I can't see so well, old age, you know, it changes things. But I can still hear.

I heard the electric crackle like static, bursting through the gap in the closed iron doorway. And I heard screaming. And I knew, I just knew, what was behind that door. Oh, my poor Jacky. I never should have brought you here.

The door opens and I see you plainly. It's the distances that bother me. You're dirty and bloody and covered in open wounds. And inside, I cry out. I scream and rage and throw myself around. But outside? Not so much. I think I might have winced, in sympathy. I've been there. It isn't fun.

You look down at me, my beautiful boy, my fallen angel, and you close your eyes. Slowly, slowly. Like you're trying to push the world away. Your fists clench and I see your jaw clench in perfect clarity. My poor Jacky, how lonely you must be, keeping everyone at arms length.

But I suppose I taught you that, to hold everyone away, far away, just in case. Love someone, but don't love them too much, don't give yourself up.

They lift the rod, starry electric flashes trailing from its tip like in the magic shows. They touch the tip to your skin, where it crackles and hisses and you scream. It's hard to think something so pretty could hurt so much. But then again, I imagine people might think the same thing of me…the damage I've caused, the pain I've inflicted.

I touch the tip of your mind _I didn't want him to see me like this; I'm sorry, I'm so sorry_ and instantly pull backwards. The pain there batters my mind, pulling me down, down, down. Back through time, back through places and spaces and everything in between, back through the void, back through losses and gains until I see a planet, fire at dawn, sea birds singing, children playing and over it all, over everything is the shrieks of pain and the drums, the drums, the drums. Powerful memories. Painful, too.

I pull myself back, back to the present, to the pain, to you. I open my eyes and they catch yours, bleary, tearful. I can't look away. _Please, God, don't let him die like this_ to a face reflected in your eyes, and it isn't mine. It's old and drawn and empty and surely, surely, that isn't me. It couldn't be. I wouldn't look at you like that. And I can't look away and I can't. Hazy faces, places, names and people swim in the forefront, images burnt on your brain and I try to tell you with my eyes that they're ok, they're ok! But I don't think you get the message because that empty face still stares back at me through your eyes.

The alarm sounds and I drag my eyes from yours. He shouts and storms away and the men with the pain leave too. It's just you and me. There was a time that I wished for this but not here, not now. Not like this.

You look at me again and open your mouth, croaking defiantly 'I didn't tell them anything' and there's a fire in your eyes, like I would dare to disbelieve you.

'I know'

'I can't do this much longer, Doc'

'I know'

'Is that all you have to say? I _know_?! Because that's just it, isn't it, you know and you haven't deigned to tell the rest of us pitiful beings. I'M DYING HERE, DOC, DON'T YOU GET THAT?!'

'I…I know. And I'm sorry. But…it'll take some time, to get us out of here. But I will, Jack, I'll get you out. I swear'

The doubt in your eyes hurts more than anything He's shown me. It cuts and burns. You wouldn't doubt me if I hadn't given you plenty of reason to. I'm sorry for that, too. I'm sorry for lots of things. Sorry, most of all, for being the one to hurt you.

'What'll take time? What's happening to us, D? 'cause I'm sure I don't know'

'There's a plan, Jacky' I try to look confident, try to look like I believe in myself when my world is crumbling before my eyes whilst all my hope is chained to the wall in front of me and there's nothing I can do to stop the torture 'there's always a plan'

You shake your head, then pin a wry smile on your face, hoping I won't see the pain through the mask 'Guess I look pretty awful up here, huh? Still want me?'

**Always**. 'In your dreams, Harkness,' I laugh, knowing that's the reaction you want from me. 'Besides,' I add, 'you'd get blood on my pretty sheets'

You look down at yourself, seemingly amazed at the cuts and scars you've acquired. 'I suppose I would at that'

'Jacky, I meant to tell you…I'm sorry. I'm sorry you didn't know. And I'm sorry I left you, I'm so…sorry'

'Don't. Just…don't. You don't believe that any more than I do. So just…leave it, ok? I, I can't deal with that now'

I close my eyes as you frantically kill any hope that might have grown. _Once bitten, let's not go through that again_. I'm sorry I drove you to that, Jacky, I am. If there's one thing I am, it's sorry.

You close your eyes rather than look at me, trying not to cry again. Oh, honey, I'm sorry.

'I…' He comes back and grabs my chair again, pulling me backwards to the galley, pulling me through the doors.

'Chat times, over kiddies' He laughs.

…I love you.


	15. dream

There isn't much to do here

There isn't much to do here. So in the vast chasms of time that stretch before me, I spend my time thinking. Thinking or dreaming. I long to dream of home, but what is home? Is it the far off future of my distant past, the confinement, captivity and claustrophobia of my youth? Is it the very time that lies beneath my feet, in the building that sings a song of loss and grief? Or the space in between, filled with beauty and wonder, and hope? Is it to be found in the blurry, half-remembered arms of them, the safety, love and warmth of his or in the excitement and danger of yours?

When I dream I wish it were of the good times – of the adventure and laughter spent with you or of the simple beauty of time spent with him. Of happy times, where a touch, a word, was taken for granted. But more often than not I see the bad – the sting of death, the sound of abandonment, the look on his face when we faced each other's guns, the bite of a denial meant well, the loom on your face as you dealt the final blow. It does not a happy time make.

I can't remember the little things any more, like the brush of your hand or the glint in your eye. I've forgotten much of life before this, first breaths, lingering touches, the softness of his heart. A heart too easily given. But what joy I do recall are the nights in his arms, the feel of holding and being held. The lilting cadence that was him. I remember him holding onto me like a lifeline, tears touching my shoulder, soft kisses. I don't remember such joys ever being found with you, though there must have been _some_thing, something substantial enough to make me search for you. But all I remember is pain – the pain of seeing you with her, the pain upon losing you and the pain upon finding you. Harsh words and harsher judgements. A lifetime of sweetly spoken promises that now seem empty. Lacking in…something. something I'd found with someone else, some_where_ else. Somewhere away from the danger you bring – the danger I find myself in, once again.

You are danger, excitement, the thrill of the chase and the roar of victory. He – he is the quiet, the calm. He is all-enveloping but not all-consuming.

And when I manage to dram, a single solitary happy dream, it is he who I dream of. And though I have called many places home, but he is the home I long for.


	16. duty

It's been weeks since I've seen you. I imagine it's all part of His plan, but I can't think what ends He might achieve by keeping you away from me. Maybe He's hoping we'll break on sight, so relieved just to find each other alive and waiting, maybe He's slowly ruining you so that when I see you I'll break just to keep him from laying another finger on your precious face, from making any more tears fall from your eyes. But He should know that won't happen. As far as you or anyone else knows, I'm heartless. Your suffering won't touch me, same as always. I will not cry, I will not give. I will not stop.

But maybe you've refused to see me, so hell-bent on holding onto what tiny shards of the truth that you can, knowing that seeing me would make them all fall out. Or maybe now you hate me the way you should've when I left you. I abandoned you, Jacky, and maybe that's only just hit you. I knew what had happened, I knew you were alive, and I left you alone, no way forwards, no way backwards, no way out. No where to go. All alone.

If you were any kind of sane you would hate me. But you always were special, Jacky. You've been through the worst and come out as big and brash and bold as you ever were. My special boy.

I can't imagine the things you must go through every day, because although He never treats me nicely, He at least treats me well. I'd wish that were the case if I hadn't witnessed otherwise. It seems so very unfair, so very cruel that you should suffer for actions that were taken without your consent, without even your knowledge. Somehow that makes the thought of what I know must go on down there that much worse.

I suppose it's awful of me, knowing what you're going through and still being so glad that you're here. At least with you here I don't have to hunt you through the Archangel, tracing channels just to hear death and despair and pleas at the end. I don't think I'd survive if I had to listen to those pleas from you. My precious Jacky, so very brave, pleading for mercy, for love and care. And there wouldn't be any mercy found. Not for you, not for your team, not for the whole damn world. No matter where I try to listen, everything I hear is a screaming white noise, it's so hard to pick voices from the din. Misery and pain and utter, endless dark. Perhaps it's better, then, that you're up here.

There are days when I can no longer look out at the earth and see people worth saving, not when every sound I hear is anger and vengeance and hate…and sometimes enjoyment. Just sometimes. I feel these days grow ever closer, the tiny glimpses of the love that is so very pure, so wonderful and _human_ come so few and far between that I can no longer see the earth I tried so hard to save. I know that it shouldn't be this way, but often the only thing that keeps me from throwing them away is the thought that you would never forgive me…or worse, that you would. That you would see it as the final act of a desperate man, or that you would deny the possibility that I did it on purpose, that you'd spend the rest of your forever believing that I'd tried my hardest, that I'd come close but not close enough. That maybe if you'd only done a little more, they could have been saved. I know that this, this…this sense of _duty_ shouldn't be what keeps these people from the edge of destruction but some days duty is all I can muster.

And I hate myself for that. I know that when they look at me, when _you_ look at me, you all see this hero, someone who comes and saves the day and gives himself for the common cause, for the good of mankind.

I find that I am holding myself in contempt of the fact that I am no longer that man – that that man may never have existed, that he was just a mask, just an act I used to lure people in, waiting until the last moment to try and save them.

I hate that I see this people and all I feel is a vague sense of what was there before, the need to save and nurture.

I hate that when I look at myself I no longer see the man who had these feelings, these needs.

And I hate you, and I know it's wrong and loathsome but I do.

I hate that you are more that man than I have ever been. I hate that you are still that man and I am not.

Jacky, I'm sorry, but there are days when I hate you. But at least I hate me more.


	17. i have been changed

I'm aware that these days I spend too much of my time within my own head but honey, really, what else is there for me to do? And I've been thinking. I mean, really thinking, about me and what I've become.

I'd heard that people come into our lives to teach us things, and we are drawn to those who will help us learn the most, help us to grow. I'm not sure if I believe this, but I know that I wouldn't be me, I wouldn't be the man I am now, if I hadn't met you. And I know that when most people say this, they mean the little ways, but not me. And it's not the things I've seen or the things I've done since I met you either. I know that war and loss and grief and pain, they've changed me, but it isn't that. It's you.

When I met you, I was a con-man, working for an agency that was destroying me and did, in fact, destroy everyone who stayed there. I was trained to fight when I was young. I was brought up breathing the air of pain and smelling a profit. They raised me to be that man. And I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the job because I did and I feel guilty as hell about that but what I'm saying is that the guy I was, the guy I just described – he doesn't exist anymore. I'm not him. I look like him and I talk like him and yeah, ok, I flirt like him, but I'm not. I hesitate to say it but…I've grown up. And none of that would have happened if I hadn't known you.

I'll also admit that because I knew you, I became darker. I've caused pain and felt it, and I've suffered in this life that you made me grow into. It hasn't been easy, and should I survive this, I doubt it ever will be. Certainly not if we don't manage to win this. I've done things I'm not proud of, and I've hurt people. I can't help that now.

There are things I've done that would never have happened had I been the man I was before. But I have no wish to dwell on those things. Biased of me, I suppose, but my thoughts are my own in this.

And while I've no doubt that we'll see each other at least one more time – He can't help but gloat about our situation so that's a given – I doubt we'll ever really meet again. We won't talk, won't really look at each other – I can't see you without seeing defeat in your eyes but it's the pity there that kills me, and you can't see me without feeling it. So because we may never really meet again in this lifetime, I wanted to tell you just how much of me is down to you. How much being your friend, because I do consider you a friend, has helped me to grow.

I also wanted, because though this may only be in my mind it may also be my last true chance to admit any of this, I'd like to apologise for the things I've done that I know you blame me for, as I know you must.

I just wanted to tell you this because I wanted to thank you for rewriting my story. For all that you've done for me and with me and even, bad as this may sound, to me.

I don't know if I've been changed for the better but, because I knew you, I have been changed for good.


End file.
